He was back.

He had returned.

It had taken him ages to do it, but it all did not matter anymore.

As the image of Earth burned into Crichton's eyes, and memories of past visitations began rolling across his mind like old movies he remembered seeing, Aeryn put her arms around his waist and kissed him gently on his cheek, knowing that coming here was very important for John.

''It's been a long time.'' John whispered.

''I do not regret leaving. I probably never will.''

D'Argo, John and Aeryn's 8-year old son, entered Command and grabbed his father's hand as he gazed upon the blue planet as well.

''But I'm glad I'm back.'' John added.

No more aliens.

No more threats.

No more being chased throughout the galaxy, and fearing Earth's destruction.

No more running. No more hiding.

This would be a happy occasion.

A happy time.

Pilot intercepted millions of frequencies as he approached Earth, and he filtered one out and broadcasted it throughout Moya.

''What's that, dad?'' D'Argo asked curiously as he listened to the music.

''Christmas music.'' John said merrily to his family.

Crichton almost had forgotten what it sounded like.

''Christmas...'' John said.

A happy time indeed.

John wasn't keen on the idea of going through the official channels again; this time he preferred to go undercover.

He even thought of a complete plan, which involved parking Moya behind the moon and taking a Transport Pod to a place on Earth (preferably a small town) where no-one would recognise either him or his alien family.

But John's plans were ruined when an American official contacted Moya and it's crew, inviting them to land.

''Welcome back to Earth.'' he said.

Pilot graciously accepted their hospitality and good manners, but before he could continue, the official went on.

''Can I speak to John Crichton?'' he asked. ''I'm afraid I have some bad news...''

''John...what are you doing? John!''

Crichton was unleashing his anger on random objects in his chamber.

He stopped the destruction when Aeryn walked in, who was desperately hoping that little D'Argo would not suddenly walk in and witness one of his father's mental breakdowns.

''John?'' she asked. ''John, tell me what's troubling you.''

Crichton looked into her eyes.

He looked older than she had ever seen him before.

''He's dead.'' John said. ''My father is dead.''

Aeryn didn't know what to say.

''I've traveled all the way back to Earth, just to witness his funeral.''

John cried, and Aeryn said nothing.

She knew that the only thing which mattered was her love.

''How...did he die?'' she asked.

''Heart-attack.'' John answered.

He was so angry.

Furious.

At himself.

This was the second time he didn't get to say goodbye.

First to his mother.

And now to his father.

Both died without John being there...

A silent cold wind was blowing across their heads.

John stood silently next to his wife and son at the cemetary, as he watched his father's coffin being lowered into the ground.

''Buried at Christmas.'' a man said in the crowd which had gathered to pay respect to Jack Crichton.

''How sad is that?''

John felt those words pierce his heart.

John knew that there were probably more people coming to this funeral to see him, the famous and almost legendary astronaut, then that there were people paying their last respect to his father.

John adjusted his sunglasses as he looked at them standing in the corner of his eyes.

They looked back.

''Let them stare.'' Crichton thought to himself.

Tiny little snowflakes were falling on his shoulders and hair, colouring his black leather Peacekeeper outfit white.

As the ceremony ended, the crowd of people slowly disbanded, and John was left standing there alone, as his wife and son stepped back, giving Crichton a moment alone.

He stood alone at his father's grave in silence, not knowing what to say.

''Me and my timing.'' John said to the ground.

''There was so much I wanted to tell you. So much I wanted you to see...''

''Look!'' he added as he pointed at his family who were waiting for him, standing beneath a large, old willow tree.

''There's your grandson! The next Crichton to haunt the stars!''

John tried to smile, but couldn't.

''I wish you could've seen him.''

With every sentence, it became harder for Crichton to speak.

''I wish I could've said goodbye.''

''No-one ever truly wants to say goodbye to their loved ones.'' a voice next to him suddenly said.

''In life, you always expect the ones you love to be around, but in the end, we all must accept that one day, even they will be gone.''

The ghost of Jack Crichton appeared next to John.

He simply stood there. As if he had always stood there.

''Dad?'' John asked.

He was dead, wasn't he?

Didn't John just saw him be buried? Did he not just attend his funeral?

Or was this the Ancient?

But he died as well...

''It was a trout, John.'' Jack said smiling.

''Shall we?''

''What do you-''

Jack pushed John into the pit where the coffin had just been buried, but as he fell into this abyss, the darkness just went on and on and on, and John felt like he was falling forever.

Until he finally felt ground beneath his feet.

John tried to breathe, but he couldn't.

He tried to see, but everything was black.

Until he pulled the sheets off off his body and found himself in a completely different place.

John was lying on the floor next to his bed.

In his old bedroom.

In his old house.

John clutched Winona in his hand as he walked around the room.

''See anything familiar?'' Jack asked.

John turned around and looked at his father.

''Shouldn't you be dead?'' he said.

A rude remark; he regretted saying it immediately, but shouting at his undead father seemed to be the only logical thing to do for him in this confusing place.

''I am dead, son.'' Jack answered.

''Then WHY are you still talking to me?'' John shouted.

''I am merely a memory, John.'' Jack said. ''Summoned here to tell tales...''

''Tales?''

''Tales of Christmas past.'' Jack said smiling.